


Compartmentalised

by PiOneOneZero



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:18:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiOneOneZero/pseuds/PiOneOneZero
Summary: Chakotay is upset by Kathryn's overfamiliarity with a recent trade contact, but has he completely misread the situation?Written for Hester for VAMB Secret Summer 2016 (yes it took me this long to edit it)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hester (hester4418)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hester4418/gifts).



> With thanks to Pablo Neruda for the poem and to the ever wonderful purpledog for the beta

Chakotay was aware of an almost imperceptible tremble in his arm as he lifted it to ring Kathryn's door chime. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous – after all he was the one who had started their earlier argument, not her. He who had been angry; he who had stormed off rather than sit down and eat with the friendly alien leader they'd been forming a trade deal with. Why?

 

Because in his opinion the man was being too familiar with Kathryn; getting too close. And worse still, she had done nothing to discourage the behaviour - in fact if anything she seemed to welcome it, laughing at his jokes and batting her eyes at him. How could she behave this way in front of him? Did everything that had happened between them over the past six years mean nothing to her?

 

The moment that the alien’s hand had fallen to lightly rest on Kathryn’s arm was the moment Chakotay had seen red. He was almost pleased with himself that he’d quickly left the room rather than lay the guy out, which was most likely what the Chakotay of those long ago Maquis days would have done.

 

So, given that he had instigated the barely hidden row that had followed in her Ready Room, why was he standing here feeling so anxious? Why was there guilt worming its way around his gut? The interminable pause before she answered allowed a wave of shame to follow behind those other emotions – he was ashamed that he’d been unable to contain his personal feelings and carry out his duty.

 

But that duty, and with it the acceptance of his return to Starfleet, was all inextricably tied up with his feelings for her; in one complex bow that, as it turned out, could be completely unraveled with a single light tug.

 

He became so lost in his thoughts that Kathryn’s answering the door chime took him by surprise. When he gathered himself enough to enter the room, he saw her sitting at the table facing the window; dinner things already laid out.

 

The moment she turned to look at him was the moment his gut dropped to the floor - he realised then what he had been so afraid of; her expression was one of disappointment. If there was one thing he never wanted her to feel toward him it was that.

 

"Are you going to sit down?" She sounded tired and guilt washed over him again. He took his seat opposite her at the table. He was confronted with a sudden deep urge to apologise, then felt anger renewed at that urge. Why was he always the one to have to put his feelings second to hers?

 

"Chakotay we need to talk about this”. The statement hung in the air for a few seconds whilst he waited for her to continue, but she did not. It was then that he realised that she was expecting him to explain himself, and he felt the red mist descending once again.

 

"Well let’s talk about it then - what is it you have to say?" He was still too angry, still feeling too pushed aside to be able to have this desperately needed conversation without making things worse. There was another voice in the back of his head begging him not push her, but it was too small and too quiet to be heard.

 

"What do _I_ have to say?" He knew her well enough that the clipped staccato beat accompanying each word should have been sufficient warning for him to back down. He ploughed on regardless,

 

"Yes Kathryn, what explanation do _you_ have as to why you felt it appropriate to throw yourself at that... man!?"

 

"I hardly think I was throwing myself at him - and even if I was I don't see why I have to explain myself to you".

 

"You don't? You really don't? Huh, figures I guess".

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Why is it that you always feel the need to deny what's between us!? We've talked about why we can't be together right now, but I thought I meant something to you. More than flirting with every charming alien we run into".

 

"Chakotay you do mean a great deal to me - you should know that. And I wasn't flirting with him I was just being friendly".

 

"That looked a lot more than friendly to me. And why tell me there’s hope for us when we get home, why string me along if your head is so easily turned? I'm prepared to wait for you, and I thought you felt the same".

 

"I do Chakotay. I really do. I don't know why you're acting this way, we've talked about this. When we get back..." He stood up from the table tossing his napkin down on it.

 

"And how long is that going to be Kathryn? What if it's never? Eventually one of these people that comes along is going to take you away from me. I'll end up alone, because no-one, NO-ONE else will ever be good enough for me after you. I just wish you felt the same."

 

And with that he stormed back out of the room again, not waiting to see Kathryn's expression, not waiting for her feelings to override his yet again.

 

=========

 

Chakotay returned to his quarters an hour or two later, barely any calmer for his boxing session. Why was Kathryn so determined to ignore the feelings they so obviously shared? So determined to shut him out? He paced toward the washroom to take a much needed shower when he got the strangest sense that something about his quarters had changed. He glanced quickly around, but everything seemed in order, so he discarded his uniform into the fresher and stepped under the sonic pulses.

 

The sense that something wasn't right remained however as he ran a comb through his hair, and began to grow stronger as he pulled on clean clothes. Someone had been in here since he'd gotten ready for dinner earlier in the evening.

 

 

Much more carefully now, he made his way through into the bedroom, and straight away he saw something that should not have been there. In the centre of his bed was a box. It was a wooden box - one that was instantly familiar to him, albeit since the last time he'd seen its smooth dark surface, it had now been adorned with a series of carvings. They were relatively crude, but he could tell that whoever had made them had been very deliberate and taken time & care despite their lack of expertise.

 

This box, he had made on New Earth - he remembered Kathryn wondering that he'd gone to the effort given how they could easily replicate something that would perform the same function, but there had been a little wood left over from the bathtub he'd carved and this had seemed a very natural use for that. He'd given it to Kathryn to store some of her research materials and he'd had no idea that she'd kept it. On each of the sides, she'd carved a series of images of their time on that planet - one of her Talaxian tomato plants, the monkey, the never built canoe, a layered pattern like one of his sand paintings.

 

He had no idea what to make of it. The obvious thing to do now was to open it - Kathryn had clearly left it here for him to find, but he was a little afraid to discover what was inside. He could already tell that this had become an item of great significance for her and even looking at the outside of it felt like an intrusion into her privacy. Slowly, he unclasped the box and lifted the lid.

 

The box was almost full. Chakotay could see there were a variety of items inside but his eyes were drawn first of all to a small item on the very top of the box; carefully nestled in some tissue paper to protect it, was an eggshell. Chakotay was confused at first, unable to work out the significance of this item, but then his mind wandered to an incident from some years before.

 

Voyager had met up with a new Delta Quadrant species - the Akosians. A friendly and very lively species, the crew had spent a number of days with them, taking some much needed relaxation time and sharing stories. Chakotay remembered that time fondly. When it had come time to go their separate ways, in honour of their mutual growth as a result of the experience, each species had given the other a gift. In recognition of their great love of stories, Janeway had taken the decision to gift the aliens a data disc with a large volume of classic Earth literature. In return, she had received a bottle of the Akosians most prized liqueur - a rare and sought after drink that was the greatest honour they were able to bestow on others as a gift.

 

It had been some time later, after a particularly trying day on Voyager's bridge that Kathryn had invited Chakotay for dinner and asked him to bring the bottle from the cargo bay. ' _I think we both really need to unwind'_ she'd said. Unwind was not quite the word Chakotay would use for what happened next - it turned out that the aliens’ liqueur was far more intoxicating than either of them had expected and after a very little of the drink they both found themselves rather out of control.

 

Chakotay laughed to himself at the memory of what had happened next - after drinking and laughing well into the night, Kathryn had declared herself ravenous and so with replicator rations run dry they'd snuck down to the galley and made exactly the kind of messy attempt at breakfast you'd expect from a pair of very drunken officers.

 

He could still now remember in excruciating detail the expression on Neelix's face as he'd shown them the chaos 'someone' had left in his kitchen during the night. It had been tough not to give themselves away, smirking at one another behind Neelix's back as he stopped to wipe egg and tomato sauce up off the floor. As much as they should really just have come clean, Kathryn had already made very clear that this one had to be kept quiet. What would the crew think if they knew their captain and first officer had been rampaging drunkenly around the ship in the middle of the night!?

 

Obviously Kathryn had wanted to remind herself of the incident in a way no-one else would understand, hence she'd kept this eggshell as a memento. Chakotay took just another moment to remember how carefree and alive Kathryn had been that night before he turned his attention back to the box.

 

Brushing aside a cluster of dried rose petals, he pulled out a twisted piece of metal – turning it in his hands with confusion, trying to work out why in twelve star systems Kathryn would have kept such a thing, but then he realised it was a piece of shuttle hull plating and upon seeing the registration markings, coupled with the last of the dried peace rose petals that fell through his fingers, realisation dawned.

 

The fear came back to him as quickly and immediately as if it was yesterday, the feeling of Kathryn’s limp body in his arms, her lips turning blue; bringing his mouth to hers in no way he’d ever have wished to. The relief when she came back to him.

 

She’d been so elated to still be alive, light had filled her eyes that night when they’d cast off from the jetty out into the waters of Lake George under a dusky moon. They’d stayed out there all night in that pretend bliss, in the sanctuary of their little boat made out of photons, sipping champagne and talking; just talking and talking - an urgency in her to tell him so many things as if she was worried it might be her only chance. To share whilst the barriers were down before the stiff veil of command descended over them once again.

 

He still remembered so much of it – he’d thought about that night every spare moment over the next days and weeks, trying to sear as much of it as he could into his memory before it faded. Snippets of her childhood, all her secret places and favourite things – silly stories of falling from trees and getting lost, and then on to the more serious. The tears in her eyes when she told him how she’d almost run away from Starfleet Academy after flunking an assignment; until she realised she had nowhere else she wanted to be. The joy in recounting the first litter of puppies she’d bred, the pain at her father and fiancés deaths.

 

He’d been turning over the piece of hull in his hands as he remembered without really looking at it; he glanced down now and saw the rough outline of two figures in a boat with the moon round and full overhead, which had been scratched into the back of the panel. He smiled; clearly he wasn’t the only one to hold special memories of that night.

 

Beneath the hull plating was a large silver pocket watch on a long chain. Chakotay recognised it immediately as a gift he had given to Kathryn a couple of years back on her birthday. The story behind the gift was an odd one – Chakotay had spent weeks as he did on every special occasion trying to work out what gift to get for Kathryn.

 

He’d already rejected a whole list of possible ideas when he awoke one morning from a strange dream. A dream in which Voyager had spent long months fighting against adversaries who were trying to reshape the history of the entire quadrant and which had resulted in the ship largely being destroyed. It was so vivid and detailed Chakotay had a hard time convincing himself that it hadn’t been real.

 

In the dream, when Kathryn’s birthday had rolled around and the crew were at a very low point with destruction all around them, Chakotay had given her a watch just like this one. Like many of his other presents, it contained a great deal of meaning – a replica of one worn by a British Navy captain in a not dissimilar situation. Kathryn had rejected the gift in that scenario, but he had resolved to give her the same gift in reality and explain the dream he’d had.

 

The oddest thing about the entire situation was that when he had given her the gift, and this time she had accepted it graciously, she’d spent long minutes gazing at the watch with a bewildered expression on her face. Then she had explained to him that she’d had the exact same dream – with the same enemies, the same deaths and heartache, the same birthday and this same watch. There was a long silence between them then, as they tried to digest the array of possible meanings behind the revelation.

 

Whatever else had come of this strange experience, a new closeness settled between them – Chakotay had remained with Kathryn all that night, not intentionally but when the hour had gotten late she fell asleep with her head curled in his lap and he’d pulled the nearby sofa throw over her, pulled up a cushion to rest his head on and fallen asleep himself.

 

The next item in the box was a small roll of hide – Chakotay lifted it out and unhooked the bone clasp. As he unrolled it a sense of wonder settled over to him; it had been a long time since he’d shown Kathryn how to contact her spirit guide and he’d had no idea that she’d put together her own medicine bundle, or that she’d been continuing to meditate.

 

There was a simple collection of items inside the hide roll much, like the one that sat only a few metres away in Chakotay’s cupboard – feathers, a smooth river stone, some pressed flowers. There was also a small vial that he lifted to the light to view the contents – chuckling softly when he realised that it contained coffee. There was also a small etching depicting a scene he recognised as her mother’s house in Indiana, accompanied with tiny illustrations of Gretchen, Kathryn’s sister Phoebe and a number of dogs.

 

He replaced the items carefully in the bundle, running a hand across all of them as he felt the significance of each one to Kathryn. The river stone looked odd in amongst the other items; Chakotay was used to the one in his own bundle with its swirling lines and patterns, whereas Kathryn’s was blank and smooth. The urge to turn it over in his hands suddenly tugged at him, and he took it from amongst the other items.

 

When he turned it over, his breath caught in his throat – the stone was not blank after all, at least not on the reverse. He traced the oh so familiar lines with his thumb; the pattern he bore on his own face reflected here as if in a mirror albeit in reverse. Continuing to feel as if he was intruding into something incredibly private, he quickly replaced the stone patterned side down and re-rolled the bundle.

 

He lifted the final item out of the box, its soft silk material almost flowing like water through his fingers. Pressing it against his face, he inhaled – it still smelled of her, and somehow even of that night. That one night that was, and would forever be, seared into his memory. The one time, not long after New Earth, when she had invited him into her bed, and had let him make love to her. He tried so hard to remember the joy, and the closeness rather than the anger that came after when she withdrew from him. He’d come to understand, over the years, why they couldn’t be together but that understanding didn’t make it any easier to accept. Any easier to avoid the slip ups he made, like today.

 

Glancing back down, he realised the nightdress was not the final thing in the box after all – his eyes fell on a drawing in the bottom, soft grey charcoal outlining the features of his face. He remembered the moment this captured immediately - he'd fallen asleep under a tree on a warm New Earth afternoon and when he'd woken he found Kathryn curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. _'You looked so peaceful I couldn't resist joining you '_ she'd said. He'd had no idea that she'd drawn this picture of him whilst he slept - he was intrigued as to where she'd concealed it from him. The image only took up half the paper, and down the other side were the words of a poem,

 

_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul._

_I love you as the plant that never blooms_

_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body,_

_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._

_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

_so I love you because I know no other way_

_than this: where_ I _does not exist, nor_ you

_so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,_

_so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep_

Chakotay dropped the drawing to the floor such was his hurry to leave the room and get back to Kathryn. His flight through the ship, along corridors and up to the next deck was almost frantic - a number of astonished crew members being forced to jump out of the way of his headlong dash.

 

When he reached the door to Kathryn's quarters he paused, a sudden fear gripping him at the thought she might still be angry with him, but his desperation to get to her was far stronger and he reached up to press the door chime with conviction. The call of 'come' was almost immediate, and he could sense emotion in her voice although he knew she'd be trying very hard to mask it. He entered.

 

He was immediately surprised that she was sitting up on the sofa, still dressed despite how late it had gotten, albeit with her uniform jacket discarded on the seat beside her . She was naturally cradling a cup of coffee - and looking at him with an expression of apprehension.

 

He couldn’t do anything other than stand in the centre of the room and hold out his arms to her. At first she looked warily at him, but then he felt the first tear begin to roll down his cheek and she was across the room and allowing him to fold her into his embrace in what somehow felt simultaneously like both a lifetime and a single heartbeat.

 

He buried his face into her neck, inhaling the fragrance that was uniquely her as the hot tears coursed from his eyes and soaked the shoulder of her undershirt.

 

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, the sound muffled by the soft fall of her hair, “I’m such an idiot, can you forgive me?”

 

“Always”, she whispered back without hesitation. He drew back a little then, holding her shoulders so he could look into her eyes.

 

“How was I ever so lucky to find someone like you?” She answered by pushing up on her toes and kissing him, soft and chaste; the lightest of pecks on his lips. A kiss that reminded him of everything that they couldn’t have, but was also full of the promise of everything that they could in the future.

 

One day, Chakotay, one day. Until then, is it so terrible to have this strong, loyal, determined woman as your best friend?


End file.
